Of Fire and Ice
by IndigoUmbrella
Summary: I'm taking it slow, feeding my flame, shuffling the cards of your game. And just in time, in the right place, suddenly I will play my ace. Disclaimer: Lyrics by Blue Foundation.
1. Chapter 1

The cloud was almost invisible in the darkening sky. It started as a distant storm and quickly began to churn in unseen currents until it nearly resembled a tornado, stretching down to the ground below in a swirl of lightning and darkness. A loud crack of thunder broke the silence and a light, brighter than that of the absent sun, burst through the cloud. Just as quickly as it appeared it was gone, and nothing remained but the slowly swirling mists as they returned to their previous state. The hills rolled up and down through the landscape, and the sound of thunder rumbled through the trees until it faded into silence.

A woman stood just on the edge of a thicket near a drop off that looked out over the valley. She was hidden amongst the trees but watched the cloud from above. She didn't flinch when the lightning struck. She watched without emotion, and when the clouds returned to the sky, she wrapped her long fingers around a tall wooden staff and began moving back into the trees.

A man sat in the center of the blast for a long time without moving. His hands were still bound behind his back; his mouth was still secured behind a metal muzzle made for the worst kind of criminals; the type with silver tongues. His body felt weaker than it ever had before. He could feel the chill of the air against his skin. He could feel hunger rumble in his gut. But he waited. He knew someone would be there waiting for him, and he had no intention of fighting them at all.

Loki admittedly expected SHIELD. He wondered what they would have in store for him; another glass prison, perhaps even death. Worst of all he found that he did not care what they chose for him. Everything had been taken from him; his magic; his immortality, the throne that was rightfully his. They had taken what belonged to him and banished him to Midgard to live out the remainder of his life as a weakling human. He had no idea just yet how he would retaliate. He knew he still wanted his vengeance, but at that moment, he felt truly and completely helpless.

A twig snapped somewhere off in the woods behind his back. He turned his head, listening and knowing for sure that someone was out there now. He waited for them to speak or turn their weapons on him, but they never did. He wanted to call out and taunt them with that silver tongue of his, but his mouth remained fused shut by the metal that bound him. He stayed on the frozen dirt in the circle of smoldering symbols, waiting in silence.

He heard another crack of twigs alongside him and turned his head in that direction. A woman walked along the outskirts of the circle that had been left on the earth. She wore a hood over her head so that hardly any of her face was recognizable in the lingering twilight. But he knew it was a woman by the way she walked so gracefully and carefully. Almost like a feline, circling her prey. His tired green eyes followed her on her slow journey around the circle until she stood just before him.

"It's been a long time since an Asgardian has come to Midgard," she spoke. He had not known where they had planned to send him, but her accent was unfamiliar to him. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well," she continued as she slowed and turned to face him. "Aside from your brother and your trip to New York."

She stepped into the circle and leaned down on her knees before him. She pulled the hood back and revealed her face to him. Her hair was a vibrant red. Like the color of fire and blood. The irises of her eyes were dark and black so that he could not see her pupils at all. She reached behind his head, trailing her long fingers into his thick and tangled black hair. Then she released the muzzle from his mouth and slowly removed it, running her fingers over his face as if she were searching for something hidden deep within his eyes.

Her skin was warm against his. So much, in fact, that he almost recoiled from her touch. He searched her eyes as she examined him, trying to find a place in his memories for her face. Finally, her night-black eyes met his, and she held the palm of her burning hand against his frozen cheek.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked.

"No," he admitted, finding his voice again. She stood and walked around him to his back where she released the chains binding his wrists together.

The moment he was free he sprang into action. He spun around and grasped her firmly by the throat, lifting her to her feet as he stood. He held her body out and away from him so that she couldn't reach his face if she got the idea to scratch him. But she kept her hands wrapped around his arm and her dark eyes widened though they were not filled with the fear he had hoped for.

"Where are they?" he growled through his clenched teeth.

"Who?" she asked as she tried to breathe.

"Your Avengers."

"I'm alone."

"You're lying."

"I swear it. It's just me." He squeezed his hand tighter and cut off her breathing so that she could no longer speak.

"Don't lie to me!" he shouted. "I know my identity was kept hidden from the public. You would not know of me unless you were told. Someone you work for. Your precious Avengers? Your SHIELD? Tell me where they are!"

He shook her body and her hands twisted around the sleeve of his tattered tunic. He watched with a sudden realization. She had stopped struggling. She ran her fingers under the fabric of his sleeve. The hollow beneath her cheeks began to glow like fire, and before he could pull away, her skin started to burn hotter. He felt his own skin sizzle and bubble beneath her hands. His fingers around her throat began to burn, and he yanked himself away from her. She stood tall and straight as he clutched at his charred skin.

"Monster," he spat. "I should have trusted Fury to send someone like you."

She thrust both of her hands out as if to strike him. She was too far from him to reach, but he felt her blow on his chest with a force stronger than most humans should be allowed. He was sent sprawling backward onto the cold ground where he landed with a thud on his back. She stepped over him as he boots crunched against the blackened grass. She sat over him and pressed both of her knees against his upper arms to hold him between her legs. He smiled up at her now angry face.

"The last man who put his hands on me died a very painful death," she warned him in a singsong voice. A laugh, cruel and not amused, escaped his lips. She leaned over him and her eyebrows creased in wonder. "What have they done to you?" she asked. "What did they do to reduce a prince of Asgard to a cackling madman?"

She did not wait for him to answer. The moment the words left her lips, she ran her fingers down his face. In an instant, he was asleep.

...

Okay, I'm going to apologize before I even get started.

First of all, I'm sorry for the title. I didn't know what else to call this. I know it's not very clever and probably over used. But it's at least better than my usual "just name everything after songs."

Second, Loki has been banished. As you might have guessed. I didn't want to write out his banishment scene for numerous different reasons. But he was banished much like Thor was in his movie. Also, SHIELD has been made aware of Loki's return to Earth.

I can't promise frequent updates. This story isn't finished and I usually complete them before posting them. Also, I don't exactly know where I'm going with it just yet. I have the general idea but I'm afraid it might be too much for my capabilities. I'm definitely going to give it a shot though.

Also this is the first fan fiction I've ever written that was not a band fiction. So, bear with me. My knowledge of the Marvel Universe comes from X-Men. X-Men was MY Marvel. And my Marvel included Wolverine in The Avengers. So, while Loki originally referred to her as a "mutant" I decided to go with "enhanced" to keep with the MCU stuff that ties into my other stories.

And I hope you like it? I've never written out of my comfort zone before so I'm kind of nervous about this.

:)


	2. Chapter 2

Loki awoke to the sound of a fire crackling not far from him. He could smell the scent of burning evergreens in his nose. The fire burned clean and smelled of warmth and the majestic halls of Asgard. He groaned, and his eyes opened. The room was dark, but the light of the fire danced across the walls. He could feel that his arms were free, and the floor beneath him was hard and uncomfortable on his weakened body.

He thought the woman was unwise to leave him unbound, but he then remembered what she had done to him in the woods. She was more powerful than he was at that moment. He hated being less than what he truly was, and he wanted to make the woman suffer for reminding him of his current predicament. He rolled onto his side and faced where she sat crouched beside the small iron stove. The grate was open so that the light and heat of the fire was blazing in his sleep weakened eyes. Her hair shone like blood in its light. She sat composed as she watched him with those eyes as black as ink.

"Foolish of you to leave me unbound," he remarked softly.

"We both know you couldn't get very far," she replied just as smoothly.

He sat up and rubbed the tender ache from his wrists as he examined her. The burns she had left on his skin were gone now. He wondered if they had ever been there at all. Perhaps it was only an illusion. But since he knew for sure that he bore the blood of a frost giant, he had avoided heat as much as possible. This woman seemed to be made of the very stuff the earth was. It was as if there was a hot burning fire under her skin like the magma beneath the crust.

"Where is Fury?" he asked. She shrugged casually, but her eyes remained glued to him and ever more unfriendly with every word that he spoke.

"In his sky palace? I don't know. It's not my job to keep tabs on SHIELD."

"Stark and the others?"

"It's not my job to keep tabs on SHIELD or their pets," she repeated.

"So you operate alone?"

"Something like that."

"And just how much red is in your ledger?"

"Not as much as yours." He studied her then. She seemed such a fierce woman, but she appeared to rely on powers her body had been gifted. He was not sure if she could fight without them. And he decided that might be her weakness. But how to rid her of those powers, he did not know for certain.

"You have—many talents," he said.

"Indeed," she replied with a nod.

"And yet Fury has found no use for you?"

"I imagine Fury would have many uses for me. If only he could catch me."

"How did you know I would be there?"

"I know a lot of things."

"So it would seem."

Since there was no place for him to sit other than the wood floor, he lifted one knee and wrapped both of his hands around it. Even though she was undoubtedly the stronger of the two at present, he still bore the pride of a prince of Asgard. His hair was messy, his clothes were tattered, his feet were bare and cold, and yet his chin was raised, and he regarded her as nothing more than something to bide his time with.

"If you do not work for SHIELD, how do you know who I am?" he asked her.

"Your face has been all over the news since your attack on New York. You're not difficult to miss." He smiled wryly.

"Your government has kept the information about my involvement with the Battle of New York a secret. And you know more than the general population in any case. You knew I was from Asgard. You knew I would be there. You know things that only SHIELD and their pets would know. Or perhaps an associate of my brother." She rocked back onto her heels and slowly stuck her legs out, sitting more comfortably on the hot black stove.

"I've known of Asgard as long as I've known of the nine realms. I've been—studying your people for a long time. I know your name. I know your brother's name. I even know your mother's name." His jaw tightened as she spoke, and he sneered.

"You asked me if I remembered you. Am I supposed to know who you are?" he asked. Her dark eyes flicked to him again.

"You have a very sharp mind, Loki. But the information you store in it has only existed for the sole benefit of your immediate person. And I have never been of any use to you. So I do not expect you to know or remember me."

"If I have no use for you then why have you brought me here?" She smiled, and the grin reminded him so much of his own. There was no warmth in her cold black eyes. There was nothing to show any real amusement. It was the smile of a woman hungry for something he could not see.

"Because I have use of you," she spoke slowly. And she stood to her feet in one fluid movement. Then she walked across the room, creaking the floorboards as she went. She made for the door that was just out of his vision, but he turned his head to the side and spoke a warning on the edge of his breath.

"I will kill you," he uttered.

"Not if I kill you first," she replied. Then the door shut, and he was alone in the small and empty room. With nothing but the fire that burned like the fury of his rage.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was small and its size disturbed Loki more than he would like to admit. It was smaller than his cell in the dungeons of Asgard and held none of the same amenities. There was nothing inside of the small space but the black iron stove in the corner, the door, and a single small window just under the ceiling that was covered by a moth-eaten curtain.

The moment the woman shut the door he stood to his feet. He was colder than he ever remembered being. Even when he had visited the Frost Giants with his idiot brother, he had never been this cold. Whatever Odin had done to him had removed the ice from his veins. The heat of the fire was welcoming.

The cement floor was cold beneath his bare feet. He walked to the window and ripped back the old brown curtain, but the window was blocked from the outside. No light shone from behind the glass. It was as solid as a wall and impossible to open in his current weakened state. He muttered an oath under his breath and angrily marched to the door. He wrapped his hand around the cold handle and was surprised to find it unlocked.

He ripped it open so forcefully that the hinges creaked in protest. The next room was even smaller than the one he'd just left. There was nothing inside but a narrow staircase and a light bulb that swung as it hung from the ceiling. But it was dark. The only light came from the fire in the room behind him and the golden outline of the door at the top of the stairs. So he followed the golden light and, again, found the door unlocked.

The cellar door opened into a kitchen. The floor was made of pristine ceramic tiles that seemed to be warmed by the fire below. The countertops gleamed from unused cleanliness. The steel appliances appeared to have never been touched. The woman stood behind an island counter. Her gaze was on her hands where she held a single open file. She flipped the pages as if she had not noticed him, but he had made so much noise stomping and ripping doors open that it was impossible for her to have missed him.

"Where am I?" he asked harshly as he stepped across the warmed tiles to the carpeted floor in the open living space.

Full sofas surrounded a cobblestone hearth where a fire was roaring with an intensity much stronger than the one in the basement cell. Stuffed bookshelves were stacked high to the ceiling above. The head of a wild antlered beast hung proudly above the mantle. The wall beyond the room was made entirely of glass and looked out over the thick conifer trees and dark, frozen land. Snow fell from the black sky, illuminated only by the light of the house. He wondered how long he had been there since a thick layer of the stuff had already blanketed the ground.

"Tell me," he snapped when she did not answer. "Where have you brought me?" He stepped toward the windows and looked out over the view, where nothing but the silent snowfall and silhouettes of black trees could be seen.

"Alaska," she said with one flat word as she turned another page from her file. He spun around with alarm and question and witnessed her roll her eyes in irritation. "You're in the United States. Well—according to the law. You can't get much farther north in this country. Let's just leave it at that."

"And what did you bring me here for?" he asked as he approached the counter.

"To keep you safe."

"From?" She looked up and met his green eyes.

"SHIELD. My guess is that they're in a panic to find you. Let's just say you didn't land where you were supposed to. Your brother has probably already been made aware of your mishap. It's only a matter of time before they find out where we are. Try not to get comfortable."

"But why? Why do you have use of me?" She took her time as she reassembled the papers in her file and closed the folder. Then she slapped it down on the counter between them. Her dark eyes stared emotionless into his.

"I'm not a monster," she said. He reached for the folder and opened it to the very first page. "It's called Extremis. It was funded by a subdivision of Stark Industries before Stark went clean. It's a super soldier serum, much like what was given to your Captain friend. Only it had unforeseen side effects. Those who've been injected are ticking bombs. There's no telling when they go off or where. They get too hot, and the results mimic a small scale nuclear weapons strike. I do not intend to be nothing more than a shadow on a wall."

Loki scanned the document as she spoke but found the words reflected most of what she said. The serum gave her particular strengths, but none that could explain all of her gifts. Nothing that suggested a user could push with nothing but their mind. Nothing that said she could force victims into a comatose state with the touch of her fingers and nothing he knew of in any realm gifted her with the ability to divert the Bifrost. He kept that to himself as he closed the file and looked up at her again. Then he smiled. He had discovered a weakness.

"You're dying," he said. She nodded.

"Yes," she admitted.

"And how do you suppose I can help you?"

"What do humans do when they know they're going to die? They turn to God. I just happen to have one standing in front of me."

"I'm afraid I can't help you. Or is it you've forgotten? I'm as human as you are now." She returned the cold and cruel smile.

"There is a saying in this realm that if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. You don't need to know how you can help me, but when you do, I'll help you regain everything that was taken from you. I'll help return you to Asgard for your throne. Do we have a deal?" She stuck out her hand and Loki sneered in response. "It's either you help me or you go out there and try to survive in the wilderness with nothing but old tattered clothes. So what do you say? Do we have a deal or not?"

"You have the ability to return me to Asgard and return my power?"

"What I have or don't have is none of your concern at this time. Help me first and I'll show you just what I can do."

Loki took a moment to think it over as he regarded this mysterious woman with her secrets and strange familiarity with him. He did not like being forced into a situation he had no control over or knowledge of. He did not like being deceived. But he knew the best way to gain the upper hand was to first gain her trust. She was going to die, whether by his hand or not, and he very much wanted to see that happen.

So he grinned and slid his cold hand into her warm one.

"We have a deal," he said. Then he gripped her hand and slammed it down onto the tile countertop. She didn't flinch, but let out a rush of air from her nose. Her nostrils flared; her eyebrows creased. He relished in the satisfaction from her reaction. "But if you betray me," he spoke as he inched closer to her face and stared into her midnight eyes. "I will rip your beating heart from your chest, and while it still beats in my hand, I will force you to swallow it whole. You cannot cheat me because I am a God and you are an insect. And one way or another, I will always win." She gave a genuine smile at his threat. Her eyes softened and her lips twisted.

"Who would have thought you were such a charmer, your majesty," she said.

"Oh, you have no idea," he replied as he released her hand and stood back. "So what am I to call my newest ally?"

"Bridget, and it would be in your best interest to remember it."


	4. Chapter 4

The water was hot against Loki's freezing skin. He stood in the downpour for a moment before attempting to adjust the temperature. Then he stood there for a long while watching the dirt swirl around the drain at the bottom of the shower. He closed his eyes against the memories, hoping the water would wash them away with the grime. But when he opened them again he found that the pain was still fresh, and his body felt weaker than he had ever felt before.

He took a long time in the shower thinking about how he had ended up in Midgard and what the future might have in store for him there. He hated not knowing what was going to happen or how he could move forward, but he knew it was in his best interest to trust the woman. At least for a time, because at the moment she was keeping him from death, and once he had a solid plan formed—he could be rid of her.

Unless he found a use for her. He had to admit he was lucky to have ended up with her rather than SHIELD. The Bifrost was still weak, and he was lucky that it could only send one person at a time. Perhaps the damage that had been done was the reason she had been able to divert it so easily. She was not strong at all. She was just a woman with secrets, and he intended to unlock every one of them.

When he finally left the shower, he stepped back onto the clean, glistening floor tiles and reached for a dark red towel that hung from a silver bar. A monogrammed S was embroidered onto the fabric, and he ran his fingers over the threads before wrapping the towel around his waist. Then he turned to the foggy mirror.

He ran his hand over the glass to wipe away the moisture that had built up on the surface. His own pale and hollow face looked back at him. She was right about what they had turned him into; a cackling madman with matted hair and skin so pale and thin that the veins beneath the surface were blue like the ice his forefathers were made from. His eyes seemed sunken into his face; the bones of his cheeks were as sharp as daggers.

Loki left the bathroom and returned to the main room. The woman was still in the kitchen though she had abandoned her file on the counter and was now heating something in a loud, noisy machine. Loki cleared his throat loudly and walked into the kitchen, tracking water onto the warmed floor as he went.

"Do you have anything I can wear or am I expected to remain in my prison robes?" he asked. She turned around to face him. Her dark eyes stared into his, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts. It took another moment for her black irises to adjust on him.

"There should be sufficient clothing in the loft upstairs," she told him. "I expect you know how to dress yourself?" He smiled wryly, and his green eyes glinted dangerously.

"I've grown quite accustomed to handmaidens." She shook her head once and turned to the noisy machine, where something inside was rotating on a disk.

"Welcome to Midgard, where everyone is expected to care for themselves."

"And I aimed to change that—but no one agreed with me." He turned toward the small, narrow staircase that led up to the open loft bedroom. But he heard the sound of her soft and hushed laugh from behind him.

The upstairs loft held a small single bed and a dresser. A painting above the headboard showed off a woodland scene much like the wilderness that surrounded the lodge. The raw wooden railing looked out over the living room and those glass windows that still showed the snowfall glittering in the lights from the house.

Inside the dresser, he found clothing fit for a man shorter and wider than he was. So the heavy waffle pattern shirt hung loosely around his torso, and the black slacks were too short by several inches. He felt ridiculous, even by Earth standards, but figured it would suffice until he could find more suitable dressings.

Once he had dried and dressed, he returned to the main floor. The machine was no longer cooking, and she was setting a blood red plate down on the island counter that separated the rooms.

"You must be starving," she remarked as she returned to the bar. "Long trip from the heavens, I imagine." She turned back around and ignored him as he took a seat on an uncomfortably stiff stool. He looked down at the meal she had prepared for him in disgust.

"What is this exactly?" he asked as he lifted a silver fork and wondered if it was sharp enough to pierce her throat.

"All they had in the freezer." She turned back around and offered him a friendly smile. He didn't return it. The air in the room was heavy with the foul scent of the meal, and despite the gnawing hunger in his gut, he did not want to eat it. So instead, he turned up his nose at her. "It was from a frozen package," she explained. "They're always revolting. I'll try to get better supplies next time I kidnap a God." Then she turned around, and he allowed himself to smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki watched as the woman ate her meal in silence. She called herself Bridget, but that name didn't seem to fit her. It didn't flow off of her tongue the way a name does when it belongs to you. It was stiff, stale, and foreign on her lips. But he supposed that was her secret to tell and perhaps he could not blame her for wanting to keep it to herself. No doubt she knew what he was capable of and what he had done. Either way, he decided that since he was going to take her life, it was the least he could do to allow her to keep her name.

"You look as though you haven't slept in weeks," she said from where she was leaning against the far counter. She was picking at her reheated meal with a fork and not finding it any more appealing than he did.

"I've been very busy, in case you've forgotten," he explained. "I was hardly given enough time to recover."

"You've made a lot of enemies. I was surprised the All-Father thought it best to return you to a place you nearly destroyed. Especially since the bodies are still warm. He took away your natural defenses and sent you to the slaughter."

"I'm quite sure slaughter was exactly what he had in mind."

"You can take the bed upstairs for the night. We'll get you better clothes tomorrow."

"And where will you sleep?" he asked as she turned and dropped her plate into the sink. She had hardly eaten her repulsive meal, but he could not blame her for that.

"Master bedroom," she told him as she headed for the living room to the door beneath the loft.

"And you expect me to fit on that small bed?" he asked her.

She stopped at the door with her hand on the silver knob and turned to face him. Her playful demeanor was gone now. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her dark eyes were narrowed in warning. He stood to his feet and crossed the carpet to face her. The door behind her hand had swung open, and he could see the darkened room beyond. The bed was large and inviting. He imagined lying wrapped in those furs with her warm body against his. It sounded much more appealing than that small single bed in the loft.

"You're not sleeping with me," she told him.

"So you—a human—will sleep in a large bed all by yourself. While I—a god—am forced to sleep in a servant's bed?"

"It's not a servant's bed. It was made for children and guests. You are my guest, and you will sleep in the guest room."

"This home does not belong to you any more than it belongs to me."

"It does for now." He studied the firm set of her lips, and she lifted her chin in a stubborn refusal. Her eyes narrowed at the smirk hinted by his mouth. "You started the evening with your hand wrapped around my throat, and you really think I'm going to allow you to end it in my bed?" He grinned and she stepped forward, closing the space between them and unlocking her arms from her hostile stance. "I burn hot, Loki, and you burn cold. One of us will cancel out the other. And right now—the odds are not in your favor."

"Is that a threat, human?"

She reached up and placed the palm of her hand against his chest. The layer of waffle pattern fabric was thick between them, but he could still feel the heat of her churning beneath her hand. He fought the urge to pull away by reminding himself that, Frost Giant or not, he was human in this realm, and her heat was no real threat to him. At least not until she ignited. And despite the danger that presented to his currently weakened state, he would love to see that happen.

"I'm stating a fact, Prince. You are in my kingdom now, and I make the rules here. When you are king of Asgard and the Nine Realms—you can decide which bed to sleep in. And if you're lucky I'll allow you to share mine. Goodnight." She removed her hand and slipped into the room, shutting him out as the door snapped closed.


	6. Chapter 6

The bed was too short and uncomfortable. So that Loki's feet stuck out of the bottom, and no matter what he did with the blankets he always ended up with nearly half of them exposed to the air. It took him a long time to succumb to the sleep his body was aching for. Even though he had spent so much time under Bridget's sleeping enchantment, he still felt exhausted. But his dreams were filled with darkness, and not the impenetrable emptiness he had hoped for. He dreamt of torture and fire, his brother, Odin, and worst of all he dreamt of Frigga and the pain he had seen in her eyes when he last saw her.

He woke before the sun and found that he could no longer sleep if he tried. He stood from the small uncomfortable bed and walked to the other side of the loft and out over the railing. The sky passed the glass window panes began to lighten just beyond the silhouette of mountains and trees. The snow had stopped falling and left behind a thick blanket of white powder on the floor of the forest below.

The fire was still roaring in the hearth below, but he felt very little of the heat in the loft. Bridget was seated before it, crouched as she gazed into the flames, lost in her own thoughts. She only moved when she occasionally struck the burning logs with the end of an iron poker to give the flames more fuel to burn. She held a mug gently in her free hand. The steam was thick in the chilled air, but she made no move to drink it. She was already dressed for the day in the clothes she'd been wearing when she appeared to him in the woods.

"Is it customary for you to be awake at this hour?" he asked as he stepped down the narrow wooden staircase. She turned her head just slightly to acknowledge that she had heard him, but she took a moment longer to speak.

"It is customary for me to be awake at all hours," she told him in a soft breath.

"I would have fared better myself if I had been given a more comfortable bed." She smiled and lifted the mug to her lips.

"I think you would have found it uncomfortably warm."

"Better uncomfortably warm than a bed that's too short."

"There are clothes for you on the sofa. They're not much, but they will keep you warm until we get to town." A small pile of clothing had been folded neatly and placed on the cushions of the couch for him. She had her back to him again; a vulnerable position. Either that or she was just far too trusting. He figured either option was ignorant.

"Breakfast is in the microwave. I suggest you eat quickly because I would like to leave as soon as possible. We have to get what we need and get out before anyone starts asking questions."

"If SHIELD is looking for us, don't you think we'll be recognized?" She stood up and smiled.

"You have your tricks, and I have mine. Get dressed, eat, and meet me out front. I'll take care of the rest."

Loki took the clothes into the other room to change. He decided to forgo breakfast entirely. He couldn't stomach another one of her frozen meals, and the thought of it alone made his stomach queasy.

She had brought clothing that was better tailored to his size. The jacket was large like hers was and seemed to put warmth before style. He dressed as quickly as he could and met her in the living room. She was shoveling old ashes into the flames to kill the fire.

"How are we going to travel unnoticed?" he asked as she stood to her feet and returned the shovel to its former place beside the mantle.

"We'll travel by foot. Cars are too noisy and leave track marks. I hope you like the cold, son of Laufey."

She turned toward the front door, and he followed behind. His dark eyebrows furrowed in question, but she stayed silent as she shut off the lights and opened the door. He followed her out into the cold morning. The air met them with a wave of ice, stinging his skin and nose. No birds sang in the trees to greet them. The forest seemed to hush as they headed down the snow-covered driveway and onto a lonesome road that wouldn't even have looked like a road if it wasn't for the absence of trees.

"How do you know my true lineage?" he asked after a long while of crunching through the crust of snow.

She carried a heavy wooden walking stick and a pack on her back. Her flame red hair was pinned out of her face, but the hood rested on her shoulders so that her curls were wild and vibrant against the white landscape. She fit in well with the forest, he decided. It was as if she belonged there.

"I know a lot of things," was her response. Her stride did not slow, but he could hear her breathing and could see the puffs of white mist escape from her lips in short bursts.

"There are only a handful of those who know the truth of what I am. I would like to know which of them divulged that information to you."

"That is for me to know. You will find out if I feel like telling you."

"I don't like it when information is kept from me. If you wish for me to help you, it would be in your best interest to refrain from withholding it. I make a great ally but an even greater enemy." She stopped along the path and turned to face him. The tip of her nose had turned pink the cold. And though she seemed so perfectly at place in the woods, she seemed so out of place in the cold.

"Give me your hands," she instructed as she leaned the walking stick against her shoulders and held out both of her hands, palms toward the sky. He hesitated; remembering the feel of his skin boiling beneath those hands.

"Why?" he questioned.

"I can't tell you everything you wish to know. Not yet. My reason is for my own safety. I know who you are and what you're capable of, Loki. You take as much knowledge as you need in order to protect yourself. You are brilliant and sly. But I keep as much information to myself as I can in order to protect ME. But if you want an answer to one of your many questions place your hands in mine and close your eyes."

He reluctantly slid his hands into hers, and they were surprisingly warm. Not boiling. He welcomed the feel of her bare skin against his cold hands, but he refused to close his eyes. She smiled with genuine amusement.

"You're as stubborn as your brother," she said.

In a moment of shimmering green light, the redhead was no longer standing before him. It was just a woman with mousey brown hair and no discernable features. She looked more accustomed to the cold. She was small, with a hood over her head, but her eyes were still that dark black emptiness that he was beginning to know so well.

"You're a shapeshifter," he said.

"Asgard isn't the only place blessed with magic, Prince," she said.  
She released his hands and returned to her walk along the path. He looked down at his own hands and found that they were different from the ones he had known. He reached up to touch his fingers to his face.

"I changed you too," she said as she walked ahead of him. "Now hurry or we'll freeze to death before we get there."

"And just how is it that you've come to this knowledge?" he asked as he fought to keep up with her strides.

"I know a lot of things," she said, using her go-to answer for most of his questions.

"Magic isn't bound to Asgard, but it's bound to time. It takes years, thousands of years, to learn how to change one's form."

"Unless you've had a good teacher," she retorted. "Frigga is good. She's good with magic. She always has been. She's a good teacher, but she's not great. There are others. Asgardians with much more extensive knowledge. Frigga had other obligations while she studied. If she had dedicated her life to the magical arts, she might have learned more. But she would not be Queen, and she would not be a mother. And the same goes for you. If you had spent more time learning and studying rather than following your brother's foolish schemes or wondering why daddy didn't love you, then you might have made a great enchanter."

He reached out and grasped her firmly by the wrist, spinning her to face him. Her new face was taut. Her lips were set in a straight line and her eyes burned like black coals. He held her wrist up above her head. She did not fight him, but her skin began to warm beneath his touch.

"So there's another," he said slowly as she stared up at him. "You're not alone. You have a teacher. An Asgardian. Someone powerful. That's how you managed to divert the Bifrost. You don't need me to help you acquire a cure for your—affliction. It's Asgard you want."

"I want—to live," she said. "The throne of Asgard has very little value to me."

"And what of your teacher?"

"My teacher wants to go home."

"Yet you put your trust in me? You think I will help you? Either of you?"

"Who better than Asgard's greatest enemy? You are powerful, Loki. You are as sharp as a blade and as cunning as a fox. You have been weakened, but it is only temporary. You said so yourself, though in different words. You make a great enemy, but an even greater ally."

"I have no allies, and what makes you think that I will offer you what you want when the throne is mine?"

"I expect nothing from you once you have what you want. That's why I'm getting your help now while I'm more powerful than you. Once I get what I want—I'll help you get what you want."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because you have no other choice. If SHIELD gets their hands on you, you will die. Despite their promises to your brother. You will be taken prisoner, and you will suffer. I have a way to get you back to Asgard, and you need me for that."

"What if I refuse?"

"Go ahead. I'm taking you to town. I'll lift my illusion. Go turn yourself in. Or perhaps go into hiding. Let's see how long you last in this world. But if you lose me now you lose me forever. And you will lose any chance you had of getting back to Asgard with your magic and your dignity."

"And when you are no longer more powerful than me—what then? Will you show your back to me as you have already? Will you leave yourself open and vulnerable when I can kill you with the flick of my wrist?" She smiled at him.

"You won't," she said. Then she slid her hand away from his and continued on her path.

"So much trust in someone so untrustworthy," he said as he followed along. She just laughed in response.

"You remind me of my husband," she told him. "And when he put his hands on me the way that you did just now—I had him killed."


	7. Chapter 7

The walk from the lodge to town seemed to take up the majority of the morning. Loki began to wish that he had eaten before leaving. Even a short meal of reheated frozen product was better than hiking through the woods on an empty human stomach. Bridget seemed to have no problem with hunger or thirst as they walked, but she complained about the cold often enough to irritate him.

The town appeared in the afternoon. It was a line of buildings behind the trees, where smoke rose from chimneys and cars drove up and down the lane. It was small enough so that Loki doubted SHIELD would be looking for him there, but it was also unwelcoming and disappointingly devoid of human luxury.

"Your name is Anthony," Bridget said as they began the trek down from their path to the road below. "You're a city boy, and the locals don't care for you. You're only ever seen in town when wooing women. The residents usually ignore you. We go in, get our supplies, and then we leave."

"And who are you?" he asked her.

"One of your conquests."

"Of course." She shot him a jeer before hurrying down the trail that led to town.

As they walked side by side Loki considered abandoning her. He knew that if he did not stay close to her, the illusion would fade, and SHIELD would find him quickly. It was possible her magic was keeping him hidden from other eyes as well. If he had his magic, he would have left her long ago, but at that moment, he was still cold, hungry, and powerless. So he did as she instructed and kept his mouth shut as she led him into a local general store.

They had eyes on them from the moment they stepped inside. A bell jingled above the door, and Bridget ignored the looks from the man behind the counter, and the blonde woman browsing the shelves. She took a basket and began filling it with odds and ends. Loki only watched, keeping his eyes on the strangers. The man behind the counter paid him no attention at all, but the blonde woman kept her eyes on him until he disappeared down an aisle.

"If you brought me here to appeal to my humanity," he started. She shushed him.

"There's nothing appealing about humanity. Not anymore," she whispered. "And if there is at all—you won't find it here."

"Where would I find it?" She turned her eyes on him.

"Children. They're all that's left that's worth fighting for," she said. "Like the ones you massacred in New York." Then she continued down the aisle, collecting things in her basket without paying much attention to what they were.

"You think I don't like children?" he asked as he walked along behind her.

"I wouldn't know."

"I have children. Did you know that?"

"Are they children, or monsters?"

He reached out and ripped the basket from her hands. It crashed to the floor, sending cans and packaged goods rolling down the linoleum floor. He yanked her against him, jolting her back against his chest to hold her firmly in place. He could smell the scent of those burning evergreens in her false brown hair.

"Children," he said sternly. "My children. It would be wise of you to be cautious of your words."

"Forgive me, your majesty," she said as she bent down and reached for the basket and fallen items. "Sometimes I forget how protective parents are of their offspring. It's been so long since I was a mother." She returned to her feet and then began to locate the fallen items. The blonde woman stood at the end of the aisle, watching.

"You have children?" he asked. They turned the next aisle, and Bridget removed a can of vegetables from a shelf, reading it over quietly.

"I had a son once. A long time ago," she finally told him.

"What happened to him?"

"He was murdered."

She set the can back on the shelf and continued. He decided not to question her further. Not because he wasn't curious, not because the subject would cause her pain, only because the blonde woman had appeared at the end of the aisle again. She was busying ringing up her groceries, but he could tell by the stance of her shoulders that she was listening.

The man at the counter watched them cautiously as they approached. He finished with the woman and she began to leave. She stopped herself at the door, turned around as if to say something, but then quickly shut her mouth and scurried out of the store. Loki watched her go, wondering if it were the face he was wearing or something else.

"Been a long time since you've been out to the lodge," the man behind the counter said. Bridget nudged Loki in the ribs with her elbow to draw his attention from the strange woman. He grimaced at the old man.

"Yes," he replied quietly. Bridget shot him a glare as she emptied the small basket onto the counter for the man to ring up.

"I heard you were seeing your PR."

"That's me," Bridget interjected. "Bridget O'Dubshelaine pleased to meet you."

She reached out to shake the man's hand, and he studied her curiously. But he asked no more questions, and she hurried to pack the contents of the basket into her pack. She paid it with a card that bore that unfamiliar name.

"Have a nice night," the man said slowly as they headed toward the door. She shoved Loki out onto the street and nodded a polite goodbye.

"I was going to get you clothes," she spoke as the door shut and she slung the pack onto her back. "But you went and made a fool of yourself."

"You're the one gave me a recognizable face. Whose face did you give me?" he retorted.

"How was I supposed to know who he sees now? He's infamous for bringing women here."

"And how would you know that?"

"You think I didn't thoroughly investigate this person before I stole his home?"

"Obviously not thorough enough."

"Just bite your tongue. We're being followed," she snapped.

"By whom?" he asked. She reached out to take his hand, playing with the idea that they were just a visiting couple. He searched around, wondering if it was the blonde woman again, but he couldn't see her.

"Strangers. I've been watching this town long enough to know every face. There are two tails on us."

"You think it's SHIELD?"

"It's difficult to say. The entire world is on high alert. You don't have your face, but you're a familiar man in a strange town who talks of murdered children and monsters while manhandling his supposed girlfriend. We should have stayed silent."

"You should not have burned so hotly."

"One thing you should know about me, Prince. I have a temper. And you seem to have an unnatural gift for waking it."

"I've heard that before."

"We'll find you better clothes another time. Let's just lose them in the woods before they start asking questions."

Loki followed along with her plan to make them believe they were a couple. But he couldn't get his mind off of the woman who stared into his eyes as if she saw Loki instead of whatever face Bridget had given him.

"The woman," he finally spoke. "She recognized me." Bridget shrugged and smiled.

"Perhaps you broke her heart. Or at least, the man whose face you've stolen."

"No," he uttered with a shake of his head. "I think she recognized ME."

Bridget kept her eyes forward and her stride long. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, but he didn't think she believed he was wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

The walk back to the wooded path was much quicker than before. Bridget released Loki's hand the moment they had reached the cover of trees, but she did not lift their illusions. Her steps were measured and quick. The pack on her back was undoubtedly adding extra weight, but she made no complaints, and her determination was strong.

"Someone must have tipped them off about the storm last night," she said as they hiked. "They're getting faster to respond. No doubt they already know you're here, and they're watching for anyone suspicious. It was stupid of me to bring you so close to town. I just wanted to get you some supplies. I had no idea you would be so tall. We'll have to leave the lodge behind.

"You're not exactly a master of long-term plans, it seems," he remarked.

"You need to keep your mouth shut because I am in no mood to listen to your silver tongue. I'm thinking."

"In advance, I hope."

"Shut it, Prince."

They headed up a long hill, and Loki wished he had a walking staff like hers to keep his balance on the frozen ground. She seemed to forget that he was more human than she was now, and the cold and distance were taking their toll on his body. He grew tired of the silence along the way and spoke again of what she had been so heated over in the general store.

"Your son," he said, breathing quickly. "What was his name?" She didn't answer for a moment. She was still thinking, but it was clear she had heard him in the way she lifted her hood back over her face to block out the sight of her glowing cheeks.

"None of your concern," she said. "But I'd rather not talk now. We're still being tracked."

"You're sure? All the way out here?" She nodded.

"I'm positive. Follow me." She stepped off of the main road and into the woods, dragging him along with her. They reached the dense space between the trees and she turned to him. "You hear that?" she asked. He listened carefully.

"I hear nothing," he said.

"Shh," she said, pressing her warm finger against his lips. "Listen." It took a moment longer for him to hear, but soon the sound of thumping in the distance echoed through the wind. "Helicopter," she told him. "They're looking for us. We'll have to take cover in the trees. And we can't go back to the lodge now."

"Where will we go?" he asked.

"I have a cabin farther south. But be quiet." She wrapped her hand around his wrist and dragged him into the cover of the trees. They waited for a moment as the sound of helicopter blades faded in and out in the distance. "The knife you took from the kitchen, where is it?" He looked down at her in confusion.

"What knife?" he asked.

"You were never as good a warrior as Thor or even Odin, but you are intelligent, quick, and you always carry a knife. But you're going to need it. So I suggest you take it out."

He studied her face for a moment as her dark eyes searched the skies beyond the canopy of pine needles. But then he relented and pulled the silver kitchen knife from the sleeve of his shirt. She pretended not to watch, but he was sure he saw her smirk.

"They're having difficulties tracking us down," she murmured. "My enchantments are holding steady. However, if SHIELD is looking for us here then it is likely Heimdall is too, and he will see right passed them. We have to be careful. Here." She handed her walking stick over. "It's going to be slippery."

She turned her back on him as he weighed the thick pole in his hands. It was carved with strange markings and as smooth as stone. He tested it a few times, tossing it between his hands and getting a feel for it. Then he swung toward her retreating figure, hoping to see the heavy wood bash against the side of her skull.

The wood sliced through the air, creating a humming sound in the cold. She ducked before the staff could reach her, and in an instant, she swung back around. The fingers of her left hand laced into the front of his coat. She used all of her might to shove him against a nearby tree. And then he found the point of the sharp kitchen blade pressed against his throat. Her illusion faded in a shimmer of green light, and he smiled at her quick reaction.

"You seem surprised," he said.

"I get the feeling that you want me to kill you," she replied.

"You wouldn't dare. You need me, remember?" She glared and the forearm pressed against his chest began to grow hotter. Her skin started to glow in the hollows of her cheeks.

"I don't need you nearly half as much as you need me. The only reason your brother hasn't come for you is because of me. The second you kill me is the exact moment that Heimdall sees you."

"And what makes you think Asgard isn't exactly where I want to be?" She was the one to smile this time. And he couldn't call it a smile of joy or delight in any way. It was almost a gloating smile. The smile of a woman who knew that she had exactly what she wanted.

"Because you want to know what I want from you and how it will benefit you. And I can assure you the reward will be far greater than you can possibly imagine. But you'll have to trust me. At least for a while."

"Trust isn't in my nature." She smiled again and released the front of his coat. She flipped the long dagger in her hand and pointed the blade in his direction.

"If you try to kill me again, I will burn you."

"Oh but, darling, you've already made that threat."


	9. Chapter 9

The sound of helicopter blades faded in and out through most of the afternoon. Instead of returning to the lodge with its many comforts, Bridget led Loki south and revoked the cane. So that he was forced to fight the slippery forest floor on his own. They seemed to be walking downward at a permanent incline. He could not be sure how far they had traveled and how much farther they had to go before reaching her cabin. He was confident that they would find them before then.

Bridget was quiet for a long time. She had taken his only knife and the stick from him so that he had no weapons, but he hated to admit that she had been right. He wanted to know what she wanted him for. He still couldn't trust her, but her death would only bring him more pleasure if she betrayed him first.

Finally, a clearing appeared ahead of them. The sky had gone quiet for the time being, but the helicopters had been getting closer and closer over the past hour. Bridget seemed to pay them no mind. She continued forward, caring little for the possible spies, and even less for his lack of strength.

They reached the clearing a few minutes later, and the feeling of impending trouble hit him right in the gut. The sky above the meadow was open and visible. The forest was too silent, and the moment his feet reached the snow dusted grass, they found their ways barred.

A group of men and women in black were standing in the clearing with the guns raised. He didn't know how he had missed them. He saw the clearing ahead and it appeared empty, though vulnerable. And the next moment they were there.

"You're surrounded," one of the men said, pointing his gun in their direction. Both of them had stopped the moment the intruders appeared, but they had made no moves. "Drop your weapons and put your hands where I can see them." He heard the sound of Bridget's low, threatening laugh, as it raised the hair on the back of his neck. She laughed as if she had known all along that they were there, and that she had intended for them to find her from the start. "Drop the weapon," the man repeated. She moved the stick around in her hands.

"How did they find us?" Loki asked her.

"I let them find us," she replied, confirming his suspicions. But then she swung the wooden stick around and struck the man on the side of the face. The soldiers jumped into action. He heard the sound of gunfire and another agent went down at the end of her stick. "Prince!" he heard her shout, and the silver knife darted across the snow in his direction. Once he was armed, it made dodging the agents a little easier.

But Loki decided it might be more fun to watch than join in. So he used the knife to keep them away, but once the number of agents dwindled he leaned back against a tree and watched her. She was a far more skilled fighter than he gave her credit for. She was nimble like a cat and as graceful as a dancer. And she seemed to have a good grasp of her magic. He wasn't sure how, but it impressed him nonetheless.

Finally, she dropped to her knees in the snow as the last agent pressed his gun to her forehead. Loki stood straight and began to walk toward them in the clearing.

"Don't move or I'll shoot her," the agent warned as he approached. But Bridget lifted her fingers in his direction. A shimmer of green light overtook his body as her enchantment lifted. The man's eyes darted between the two of them, but he was obviously more startled by the sight of Loki in the woods.

"Go ahead," Loki purred. "She is of no use to me." Even from the distance, he could see the fire begin to glow under her skin. The snow around her began to melt rapidly. The agent was nervous, and his fingers shook from fear and cold. "But I should warn you—if you pull that trigger, you'll burn with us."

The man's eyes darted to the woman again and Loki took that as his chance to leap forward. The gun jolted in his direction and the sound of gunfire snapped loudly through the trees. Bridget thrust her arms forward into the man's chest, sending him back onto the earth, where she slammed her palm against his head and sent him into a comatose state.

"Are you hit?" she asked as she breathed heavily. The pain on Loki's arm was growing and he could feel blood spread beneath his jacket. He pressed his hand against the wound and hissed through his teeth.

"Grazed," he told her. She struggled to her feet and failed, falling back down into the snow. He stepped over to her, holding his hand against the bleeding wound. "Why did you let them see us?" he asked. She was still breathing heavily.

"Because I knew they would eventually," she explained.

"And you didn't lift your enchantment on me. They didn't see my face. They were more interested in you than me."

"SHIELD has been searching for me for a long, long time."

He reached down, placed her arm in his, and pulled her back up to her feet. She leaned against him and overheated him nearly the moment they touched.

"You should calm your nerves," he told her, pulling her across the clearing. "Before you set the entire forest ablaze."

"I need a moment to recover," she told him, and then she dropped to the snow again.

He held his wounded arm and looked down in disgust. Serum or not, she wasn't as strong as he thought. He had been shot, yet she was the one sitting in the snow, weak and pathetic.

"You don't have a moment to recover. I've been injured and we need to leave this place before more of them come."

"Give me your hand," she told him. The sound of helicopter blades began to beat on the air again. Closer this time.

"No," he replied.

"Your hand, Loki," she demanded. She looked up at him again and her eyes burned into him. Her irises were solid black and filled with venom. "No." He leaned down to her so that their faces were inches apart and his blood dripped into the melting snow at her hands.

"I do not take orders from humans."

She let out that half-crazed laugh again. Her hand shot out from beneath the melting snow, and she struck him on the arm. Her long fingers gripped the wound so hard he had no time to fight off her attack. In an instant, his vision was flooded with green light and the air was sucked out of his lungs. He could feel pressure on his entire body that seemed to squeeze him to his very bones. His eyes forcibly shut and he let out an involuntary shout of surprise.

But then the sensation lifted and he stumbled backward, landing on the ground and struggling to catch his breath. He could hear her laughing from where she sat just out of his reach, but he opened his eyes as she rose above him. She stepped toward him, no longer glowing and weakened. She had tricked him. He watched as a shimmering green light took over her body and then a new woman stood before him. The Black Widow stared down at him, but her eyes were still as dark as midnight.

The sky behind her was blue, the sun was warm, birds were singing in the distance. The sound of cars and humanity were loud in the air and the helicopters were gone. It was still cold but the air did not sting as it had before. There was no snow on the grass. The trees were bare and empty of leaves. There were no evergreens that he could see.

"What have you done to me?" he asked as he slowly returned to his feet, still clutching at his bleeding arm.

"You have your tricks, I have mine," she repeated. "As I said, you should have spent more time on your studies. Then maybe you wouldn't have to ask about my tricks."

He laughed as he regained his balance and leaned forward. It was his body, he noticed. She had only changed her own appearance.

"You're going to have to teach me that trick," he told her. She returned the smile.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours." He stood up straight and looked around at the new location. Just beyond the coppice of leafy trees was a metropolis. Two buildings stood just beyond a moat of water.

"Where are we?" he asked her.

"Washington DC. Home of SHIELD headquarters," she informed him. He turned around to face her, anger flashed in his green eyes.

"Why?" he snapped.

"You're about to scratch my back." She struck her hand out again, but this time, he felt unconsciousness take hold of him and he hit the grass with a thud.


	10. Chapter 10

Loki awoke to a gentle rocking. He struggled to move but his wrists were bound uncomfortably tight behind his back. His mouth was locked shut in the same metallic muzzle that had held his tongue when Odin banished him. Bridget was at the wheel, wearing the face of the Black Widow, but there was a manic smile on her face. And despite the familiar features, the smile didn't fit her face.

"Good morning, Prince," she said, driving faster over the bridge that led to the buildings he had seen from the hill. He struggled to move but she lifted her fingers from the wheel and waved them toward him. He froze against the seat. She laughed again. "We're almost there," she sang. "SHIELD is looking forward to having you in their hands again. Fury himself is going to see you to your prison."

He had played with the idea of killing her before. He had imagined her body burning in flames, or the feel of her bones snapping, or her struggled breath beneath his hands. But that was the moment he decided those deaths were all too kind for her. He was going to open her chest. Slowly, so she could feel it. He was going to stare into those black eyes and laugh as he squeezed her heart in his hands.

He had been foolish. Ignorant for trusting her. Ignorant for not killing her while she slept. A fool for doing what he was told like a servant instead of a king. She called him Prince, like he was nothing but a silly piece in her game.

A man at the gates waved them through at the sight of Agent Romanoff behind the wheel. Her manic smile grew wider.

"I love wearing this face!" she exclaimed. "It gets me wherever I want to go! And I love when you're so silent! No snide remarks or complaints! I was going to go about this much later, but when those agents found us in the woods I knew my time had come. I should have done this the moment I had you in my grasp. Silly of me to want to gain your trust."

He cursed her silently as the car turned into a parking garage. She shut off the engine and left the vehicle, coming to his side to open the door. He was still frozen by her magic, and yielded to her touch as she yanked him from the seat and onto his feet. He tried, again and again, to be free of her. But she held him in place.

"Just cooperate, Prince," she whispered as she led him to the assembled group of agents that were waiting for him. "This'll be much easier if you do everything I say. Answer every question." He had no choice at present. Perhaps she could sense him fighting against her enchantment, but to an outside eye he appeared perfectly compliant. He marched along with his hands bound behind his back, his mouth secured by the muzzle, and his eyes blazing with wrath.

"Agent Romanoff," the man standing at the head of the team spoke as they approached. Loki flicked his eyes to the familiar face.

"Barton," Bridget replied, dropping her accent and sounding more like the woman she was pretending to be. "We found the markings just like you said. The woman was with him. She took down a helicopter and one of our teams. We weren't able to apprehend her."

Barton motioned for the others to take Loki. They came out from behind him and grasped his arms roughly. They pulled him away as he shot the woman another glare. She smiled in response, following his journey with her cold black eyes. Barton kept his gaze on her. His spine was tense and his arms were crossed over his chest.

"Quick flight from Alaska, don't you think?" he spoke as the god disappeared with his men.

"I was in a hurry to be rid of him," she replied as her accent returned. In an instant, all guns were drawn on the woman with black eyes. She took a few steps backwards and lifted her hands. Her laugh echoed through the garage. "It doesn't have to be this way, Barton. You got your guy, didn't you?"

"How do we know he's not one of your tricks?"

"Last I checked, my illusions weren't susceptible to bullet wounds." She took another step back, rolling on her heels as if about to step into a dance. "You might want to mend that. His brother won't be too happy to find him dead in your care. But as for me—I've got more important things to do. It was good seeing you again, Barton. Send my love to Romanoff and tell her I said thanks for the face." Then she disappeared in a shimmer of green light.


	11. Chapter 11

The agents placed Loki in a room much less impressive than the glass prison they'd taken him to before. The walls were made of gray painted brick, rather than impenetrable glass. There was nothing inside the room but a metal table, two chairs, and the two way mirror he knew they were watching him from.

He sat with his back against the wall. His hands were still bound and his spine was straight. The pain in his arm had grown, and despite the blood soaking through his coat, they made no attempts to offer him medical assistance. They had left him alone, perhaps to think on his crimes or force him to fester in his pain, or perhaps just to irritate him. But when Fury himself stepped into the room he hid his smile behind the metal that fused his mouth.

"Remove the muzzle," Fury instructed another agent. A woman came around the back and released his mouth, slapping the muzzle down onto the table before him, as a reminder that it would be returned if needed.

"Director Fury," Loki purred. "It is a pleasure to see you again so soon." Fury didn't flinch, but the stern look on his face never seemed to change. He paced once through the room before turning back to the man that had nearly destroyed New York City.

"I have some questions," he said, leaning against the table and getting right to the point. Loki only smiled in response. "And if you cooperate, I'll sew up that hole in your arm. And maybe I'll be nice enough to numb the pain first."

"You offer an irresistible bargain. What would you like to know?"

"I want to know why you ended up in Alaska instead of DC. I want to know why my agents stood out in a filed waiting for a prisoner who never arrived."

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer to those questions."

"You're like us now, aren't you? Isn't that how this works? Isn't that the deal you made? So the longer I leave that hole open, the more you're going to suffer. You might even die."

"I can't answer that question because I don't have an answer. I expected to land in your custody, as was arranged. It was just as much a surprise to me to end up someplace else."

"Then maybe you can tell me why one of my agents, who last checked in with me this afternoon from Alaska, showed up on my doorstep this evening with a war prisoner."

"Ah, the woman. She is clever with her tricks." Fury stood straight and nodded to the soldier again. She pulled a folder out from under her arm and handed it over. He opened it and slammed it down on the table beside the muzzle.

"This the woman?" he asked. Loki looked down at the file with the photograph attached.

"The eyes are difficult to miss."

"What do you know about her?"

"Less than you apparently. She was there when I landed and she took me in. She gave me shelter and clothing until your agents arrived and she betrayed me."

"What did she want from you?" Loki's eyes flicked back to the director.

"And tell me again why I should help you?"

"Because I got a country full of people who would love nothing more than to rip you apart. And it would bring me great joy to hand you over to them. The graves are still fresh, and this whole world wants your head on a platter." Loki smiled. Telling him all he knew of Bridget could ultimately lead to her downfall, but he couldn't resist the tease.

"She told me her name was Bridget. She said she had some sort of virus. A serum created by Stark. She asked me to help her obtain the cure, and I suppose she intended to use me as a bargaining device. That's all she told me."

"A virus created by Stark?"

"Forgive me. A virus funded by Stark before he became—the man of iron."

"You mean Extremis?"

"Is there another?"

"Bridget is what she's been calling herself since she popped up on our radar." He turned the page of the file where there was a photo of two women in lab coats. "This is Bridget and Maya Hansen during the creation of the Extremis serum in 1999." He turned the next page. "This is the same woman with Tony Stark earlier this year when she worked for Stark Industries in New York before disappearing during your attack. This is Bridget in 1983 working for Stark Industries as their first female engineer until she went nuclear and blew up half the block, destroying a great deal of scientific research and experiments in the process. She was believed to have perished in the blaze until she showed back up in 99." He turned the page again. "This is the same woman with Howard Stark circa 1945.

"Now—I know she's a shape shifter, so her involvement with both Starks and their legacy probably stretches a lot farther than these incidents. However, I want to know why she chose the same face for these events. I want to know why she doesn't age, doesn't die, and seems to have a flair for pyrotechnics. I want to know why people start dying every time she shows this face."

"She's highly skilled in magical arts," Loki told him as he looked back up to meet the man's stern expression. "She's even more skilled than I am, as much as I hate to admit it. She spoke of a teacher but…"

"But what?"

"She's also a highly skilled liar."

"Well, she had to have learned magic from someone. The only time I've ever seen magic like this—it came from Asgard."

"I have no memory of her from Asgard, but I was a prince and I paid very little attention to the lives of peasants and magicians."

Fury looked as though he was thinking of another clever remark, but he was interrupted when the only door in the room opened.

"Sir, we have a situation," the man informed him.

"I'm a little busy at the moment," Fury snapped.

"It's urgent. It's the woman." Fury stood up straight and pointed at his agent.

"Put the muzzle back on the dog. I want this place on lockdown. No one gets in or out without my consent. We're not going to lose this asshole to another asshole." Then he stormed out of the room with the newcomer following behind him. The woman went to Loki's back and reached over him for the muzzle. She dragged her fingers over his skin and pressed her lips against his ear. Her breath was hot against him and he smiled.

"I was beginning to think you'd betrayed me," he spoke.

"Darling, didn't you know I always wanted to rescue a prince?" she replied. Her warm hands stretched over his shoulders. The same pinching sensation took hold of his body, only this time he had prepared himself for it. The green light overtook his vision, and he felt the room slip away.


	12. Chapter 12

There was a small cottage hidden at the base of a hill. It was old and appeared abandoned. It had a roof buried beneath dead pine needles and debris and sagging under the weight of multiple winters. The windows were shuttered and plants grew up the sides of the frame.

"Lovely," Loki remarked as Bridget led him up to the front door.

They hadn't spoken since appearing in the woods just at the edge of the property. He was still winded from the trip and trying to make sense of Bridget's plan. She had left herself wide open, had used a name she knew SHIELD would be looking for, and had turned him over without a blink. Yet he couldn't understand why she had needed him at all.

"I only took you to the lodge to make a good first impression," she told him as she pushed the door open and the dank musty scent of age and dust reached them.

The inside of the cottage appeared in an even worse state than the outside. Water had significantly damaged the small kitchen so that only the old wood burning stove was usable. The sky could be seen through holes in the ceiling and plants grew in through the floorboards.

"Beautiful," Loki said as Bridget put her bag down inside of the stove.

"We're only staying one night," she explained as she pulled her jacket off.

"Where are we off to next? A cupboard? Or perhaps a bridge with a pleasant view?" She laughed and reached for the wood that had been piled beside the stove.

"We need to lay low for a while. Now that SHIELD knows I have you we have to keep moving." She set the wood inside the stove and reached for kindling. He crossed the creaky unstable floor to where a single bed lay unused and unwelcoming.

"And the bed? Am I to sleep on the floor?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You'd freeze to death." He clasped his hands behind his back and paced the small room.

"So Fury seemed far more interested in you than he did me," he said. She was busy lighting the fire and didn't appear to be paying him any attention.

"Well—you're human now," she finally said. "Not much of a threat. And he had you within his reach, in his cage. He was certain you couldn't do any more damage." She reached into her pack and pulled out a smaller blade. He sat down on the bed as she heated it in the fire. He knew what her intention was but he wanted to keep her talking.

"You're a cunning liar," he said.

"I never lie. I only avoid the truth. And occasionally alter it for safety reasons."

"You make no move to correct mistakes or assumptions made about you. For instance, I called you a mutant. I called you human."

"I do that too." She pulled the blade from the fire and it burned red hot. She held it in her hand without doing much damage to her own skin. Then she stood and turned to him. "Remove your coat."

He did as she instructed and watched as she collected bandages from her pack. He said nothing else as she approached him. She pressed her hand against his chest and forced him to lie back on the uncomfortable mattress. She climbed onto him and tore into the shirt to free the wound to her blade. Her black eyes met his.

"This is going to hurt," she told him. "A lot."

"I believe I can handle it," he assured her.

So she dug the blade into his skin and he shouted in spite of himself. She slammed her palm against his opposite shoulder, forcing him still against the bed as the blade sliced through the wound on his arm. Her face was straight in concentration, her eyes narrowed, and a moment later she held up the small metal remains of the bullet that had lodged there. He felt her enchantment release him, not having realized she had enchanted him at all.

"You handled that well," she said, dropping the bullet and blade onto the mattress and cleaning his wound.

"I thought so," he replied through clenched teeth.

"They do have sarcasm in Asgard, right?" He sent her a glare and she smiled back. "Relax. I've been doing this a long time."

"How long?"

"Very long."

"How long?"

"Since this technology was invented. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"How old are you?"

"Not as old as you."

"Can you give me a serious answer for once?" She sighed heavily and slathered a sticky salve on the wound with the pad of her thumb.

"I was born a long time ago. Though birthdays are usually irrelevant in magical studies. I don't know how old exactly. I just know that I've been here for a very long time."

"Then what are you? I've never known any Asgardians to burn quite like you. Fury said you knew both Starks. You had a hand in the creation of the Extremis virus. You've been burning long before it was created."

"You were young when we met. We both were. I expect even Thor has forgotten me. It was only the once. So much time has passed."

"You told me you were infected," he reminded her.

"Well—I suppose I do lie sometimes," she replied.

"Then what are you?"

"I never needed the cure for Extremis. I AM Extremis. I was only taking back what belonged to me." His green eyes darted to hers as she wound a strip of fabric around his arm.

"You still evade answers."

"I am not of Asgard. I never was. Or at least I am not all Asgard. But I turned my back on that side of my lineage when Asgard turned its back on me. Midgard is my home now. I went to SHIELD to take back what was mine. The Extremis virus was made with my blood. Blood that burns. It was never intended to be the cause of so many deaths. Aldrich Killian abused it. He perverted it. And with those actions he did the same to me. I needed to get into SHIELD headquarters for the virus itself. Not the cure."

"Where is it then?"

"It's gone."

"And the rest?"

"I'll find it in time."

"Why do you love them so much? You're a goddess."

"I am a goddess. I was very young when I was sent here. And they loved me, Loki. They worshiped me. I love them because they gave me a home when my own bloodline betrayed me."

"Your name is not Bridget," he said softly as she finished. "I can tell by the way it sits on your tongue." She stood from the bed and gathered her equipment.

"My name is none of your concern. It is mine and mine to tell."

"So what did you want from me?"

"A way into SHIELD so I could destroy their supply of Extremis." He watched her burn the bloodied clothes in the stove. "I have a great number of tricks. But they're not perfect. I can't transport myself to a place I've never been. I can end up inside a wall or miles above the ocean. I need to see it in my mind. I needed eyes. I linked a copy of myself to you so that I could get a visual of the inside of the building. Once my copy got a look around I was able to transport myself into the building, destroy the virus, and get you back."

"So you had everything planned ahead?"

"Yes. I gave the man at the general store the name SHIELD knows me by to send them on our tail. I knew they would come with the helicopters, though I did not expect them to already be there. I knew they would attack. I used that incident to gain your trust."

He examined the new bandages as she discarded the bloodied ones and re-sterilized her blade.

"And so I've done my part," he said. "You have no more use for me."

"No, but I keep my promises. You helped me get what I wanted and now I'll help you."

"What exactly is your plan then?"

"Heimdall can't see me. He's never been able to. My mother is powerful. Incredibly powerful. And the two of us can get you back to Asgard without assistance. However, you can't go back unprotected. So—first things first. We get your magic back."

She looked up at him then and the manic blackness of her eyes from earlier was lost. This was a woman determined. A woman born of loyalty and honor. A woman of Asgard, and he decided to trust her because he knew for sure now that the moment her protections un-blurred Heimdall's vision, he would be taken by Asgard.

"And exactly how do you intend to accomplish that?" he asked her.

"Odin can't take what doesn't belong to him."


	13. Chapter 13

Night fell on the cabin quickly. The sky darkened and a strong chill crept inside so that even the hot burning stove couldn't keep the inside warm. Loki sat in his place on the bed, wrapped in furs as he fought against the chill. He watched Bridget work in the small kitchen. She cleared away the plants and attempted to repair part of the roof before making canned soup on the hot stove.

They didn't speak, though Loki still had many questions. Whenever he started to ask them she would shush him and tell him to rest. Finally, she returned to him with a bowl of red hot soup. He moved to take it and flinched as the pain shot up from his arm.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, still holding onto the bowl.

"The pain seems to grow over time," he admitted.

"It's healing."

"Is it always like this?" He wrapped his hands around the hot bowl and rested it on his lap.

"Much worse actually. Humans don't survive most bullet wounds. That's the point of them. You were lucky to be struck in the arm."

"I am human now." She sat down beside him and checked the bandages.

"You are many things," she said, "But human is not one of them. And you never will be." She peeled back the cloth and examined the healing wound on his arm. "What happened to your brother when Odin had him banished?" Loki swirled the spoon inside of the bowl. It was hot against his legs but he did not remove it.

"He met a woman."

"You know that's not what I meant. How did he regain his power?"

"I killed him."

"And he what? Came back from the dead? Or never died at all?" He turned his head to her face as she replaced the bandages and met his eyes.

"I've never been certain that he was really dead at all," he admitted. She smiled, almost kindly.

"You injured him, yes. Because his defenses were weakened. But he was still of Asgard and he will always be of Asgard. Odin is not so powerful that he could change a person's species. No one has that kind of power. Or you would not be a frost giant. You have been weakened by a uniquely powerful enchantment. But it is only an illusion. And I can help you break free of it."

Loki could feel the heat of the bowl rising in his lap with every word that she spoke; until it became nearly unbearable on his skin. He tossed the bowl away from him, shattering it against the old wood floor. The hot red liquid steamed in the cold air and seeped into the spaces between the slats of wood. And the woman smiled as she moved her hand over the length of his shoulders and gripped the other side.

"There is a reason I brought you to a place so cold, Prince," she spoke on that hot breath in his ear. "That kind of cold would have killed a human. Slowly. That kind of cold could have killed me. But not you. It was cold, because the illusion of humanity made you feel it. But it did not harm you. And there is a reason you can feel me burn so hot against you. I am only warm. But to you, I am fire. Because you are ice. And together we are the most powerful forces in all the nine realms.

"The knowledge and power is still inside of you. You have never forgotten how to twist and bend reality to your will. When we were under attack earlier today, I was able to break through the illusion just enough to use your magic. Do you truly believe I am strong enough to transport the both of us over such a great distance on my own? I can only travel in short distances. That was your power combined with mine, Loki. Magic still exists inside of you just like the ice in your veins." He turned his head toward her again so that they were only centimeters apart and he could feel the heat of her lips.

"And you think you are stronger than I am?" he asked. She smiled again.

"I know more tricks than you. But you are a king and I am a sorceress. I am fire and you are ice. You can freeze me as quickly as I can burn you. You need only remember how."

"And does that frighten you?"

"I have lived in this realm for a very long time. There isn't much left that can frighten me."

"And how can you trust me once I have what I want?" She laughed and ran her hot fingers through his raven black hair.

"I will never trust you," she replied. "You will forever be my opposite. But great things happen when fire and ice come together." She slipped away from him and stood to her feet just before him. Then she held out her hands, which appeared warm and pink even in the icy air. "I will show you," she said. He reluctantly slid his hands into hers, knowing that they would burn as badly as the soup he had tossed to the floor. He stood, wincing from the pain and looked down at her.

"Tell me of Asgard," she instructed. "Of your chambers. Tell me of the colors and the warmth."

So he did. He told her of the ways the floors shone like bronze in the sunlight. How the hearth stood large and tall before his massive bed, which stood on a raised platform. He told her of the gold and green sheets. Of the furs and tapestries and the vast windows that he liked to keep open only at night when Asgard grew cold.

As he spoke, the room began to appear. First the floors of the cabin shone like bronze. The iron stove turned into a large and roaring hearth. The uncomfortable and unused bed grew larger and the moth eaten blankets shimmered in green and gold and warm white furs. And when he finished describing his bedchamber to her, he found himself standing in it. The only light came from the fire in the warm hearth, glimmering off of the floors. He could no longer smell the scent of must and misuse. Instead he could smell the burning pine and the herbs his mother used to throw into the fires to calm his dreams at night.

He looked away from the woman before him to study the room. It was exactly as he remembered it. Every color, every shadow, and every scent. But even though it felt like he was standing inside his room again, he knew that it was only an illusion.

"It's beautiful," she told him as she looked over the unfamiliar chambers. But his mouth was set in a thin straight line.

He removed his hands from hers and stepped away. Even the sound of his feet against the floor tapped just the way he remembered. He turned back to her, feeling the weight of furs on his shoulders and the large golden horns of his helmet. She stood where he had left her, just beside the platform that stepped up to his bed. Her coat and clothes had turned into a shimmering green gown. Her blood red curls had been tamed into neat braids at the back of her head. She looked like a queen, he thought. Not a sorceress.

"It's not real," he said, hating the pain that weighed heavy on his chest. He hoped that she could not hear it in his voice, but he was certain that she had.

"No," she said as she stepped toward him. The scales of her green gown shimmered in the firelight as she walked. "But it could be."

"And what will you gain from it?" he asked. "You could have found another way into that building. You did not need me for that." Her smile grew wider, and though it was the smile he was familiar with, he knew it was an illusion too. It was too perfect, he realized. And he wondered if the face she had shown him was really her face at all.

"This all belonged to my mother once," she said as she circled around the large room. She gestured toward the windows, where the lights of the city twinkled like stars beyond the sheer drapes. "Odin took it from her. Her only crime was love for my father. Her crime was me. The half-breed. Her punishment was Midgard."

"I was right. It is Asgard you want." She shook her head as she approached him again. He could see the fire dancing in the black depths of her irises.

"No, Loki. I was sent to Midgard for a crime I did not commit. I was forced into a marriage I did not want to secure a union I did not support. I bore a son. A single candle flame in all the darkness. And Odin had him killed. It is not Asgard I want. You can keep his throne and his crown. I will help you get it. All I want in return is his head."

He smiled then and closed the space between them. Her body burned, even in the illusion, but he did not recoil from it. He gripped her shoulders and slid the shimmering green gown off of her skin. She moved her hands up his chest and into the furs that he wore on his shoulders.

"A head for a crown," he murmured, as he looked over her bare shoulders. He knew the gown was an illusion and likely her skin was as well. But he hoped the illusion didn't fade because he had no desire to make love to her in a rundown old cabin in the woods. "I suppose I will have to think of something else to decorate my mantle with," he decided as he waved a hand toward the burning hearth.

She smiled and pressed her lips against his. He pulled her toward the platform that led to his bed and he thought of how dreadfully shameful it was that she would not live long enough to see Odin's head when he separated it from his neck.

...

I'm BACK!

I was really super preoccupied with my Bucky story, and now that it's finished I can concentrate on OTHER THINGS HOLY FUCK I'M GLAD.

So, the first part of this chapter was written like a year ago and then I just added the rest like 10 minutes ago. So yay! I can get back to work on this. Updates may not be regular until I get the story finished, because that's generally how I like to do things, but I'm going to try to get it finished so yeah.


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